Lies Told to Children and Dolls
by SigmaTheta
Summary: Short fics written for the comment fic community on LJ.
1. TopherClaire: man reactions

Prompt: Topher/Dr. Saunders, Topher has his own man-reaction to Saunders hovering around him as they scan shower tapes

* * *

Claire's pupils are dilated.

She's temporarily stopped flitting about him and has wedged herself up against Topher's shoulder for a better view of the monitor. Her hovering was making him anxious, but this is equally uncomfortable and he's not sure which he prefers.

More importantly, she's staring intently at the screen and her pupils are dilated. Topher is looking at her face, mostly because he's determined to look anywhere but the screen, but Claire is focused on the shower tapes and displaying one of the basic physiological signs of arousal.

The innate awkwardness of the situation has just doubled, but Topher can't make himself look away. He watches as her tongue darts quickly out of her mouth and over her lips. He closes his eyes and sighs, and he pretends it's because she's just told him to roll the tape back again.

Claire moves over to his other side for a moment, then comes back and presses herself even closer against him, like she's forgotten whose body heat she's unconsciously relishing in. Topher shifts uncomfortably but doesn't step away.

She's figured it out now, and when she turns to tell him the cause of Victor's behavior, her gaze winds up falling a few centimeters below his eyes to land on his mouth instead. She holds the stare for a second too long before drifting back to look at the monitor.

There are about a thousand very bad thoughts Topher should _not _be thinking right now, for about a thousand and one very good reasons, and his mind is managing to cycle through each and every one of them in vivid detail.

Claire lets her hand drop away from her notebook and it brushes against Topher's thigh on the way down, and it's all he can do to keep from groaning. "So, we're done, now?" he asks in a slightly strained voice.

She takes a step back from the computer and turns toward him, and he would swear to any number of gods he doesn't believe in that she just gave his body a contemplative once-over. Claire blinks, and her features fall into an irritated frown. "Yes," she says brusquely, "but we'll have to report this to DeWitt soon."

"Right. We can do that some other time, though." Topher is untucking his shirt in the most subtle way he can manage and tugging it down. "Right now, I've got to go…do something very important," he finishes lamely. He gives a vague gesture over his shoulder, turns swiftly on his heel, and strides stiltedly out of his own office.

Claire presses two fingers to her temple and wonders what the hell she was just thinking.


	2. WhiskeyTopher: Lady in Red

Prompt: Whiskey/Topher, Lady in Red

* * *

They may like to emphasize the more charitable aspects of the Dollhouse, but when it comes down to it, the large majority of the engagements are romantic in nature. Topher is used to this. He's used to the dark fantasies, the strange kinks, the revealing outfits, the sexually aggressive personalities.

What he's _not_ used to is having to deal with any of these for longer than it takes to say, "Would you please have a seat? This'll pinch a little."

He's not quite sure how it happened (there was a small security emergency that required all handlers present, and one of them thought it was a good idea to leave a just-imprinted active in his office while the issue was dealt with), but now Topher is stuck in the imprint room keeping watch over Whiskey, who is giving him a strange look from the corner.

She's all dressed up in some slinky red dress with a slit up to _there_ and a neckline down to _there_, and she's been programmed with all the traits of a borderline nymphomaniac. She's looking increasingly displeased about not doing anything fun and sexy at the moment, and Topher is debating on whether it might be better to just wipe her and re-imprint her once the crisis is over.

"Hey there, darlin'," Whiskey calls out suddenly. Her voice is dark and smoky, and Topher turns around very slowly to face her. "How much longer do think this'll take? I've got places to be tonight."

Topher shrugs and offers a little grin. "Just a small delay," he assures her. He's not used to dealing with the actives beyond his basic script.

Whiskey's eyes slide over him, and her lips curve into a smirk. She pushes herself away from the wall. "You're a sweet thing, aren't you?" she drawls, stepping around the imprint chair and advancing slowly toward him. "You wanna have a little fun while we wait for this mess to pass?"

He gives a nervous laugh. "Fun? I'm already having fun." He tries to take a step away from her and feels the edge of the computer dig into his back. "Isn't this fun?"

Her hands crawl up his chest and curl around the back of his neck, and she presses herself against him. "Lots of fun," she purrs.

"Whiskey," he tries in a slightly panicked tone, bringing his hands up to her waist to try and push her away. He can't remember this personality's name right now.

She flashes him a predatory smile, her fingers tangling in his hair, and says, "Little early in the day for drinks, but I'm sure it could be arranged." And then she covers his mouth with hers and kisses him roughly, pushing him up against the wall.

Topher's muffled protest goes unheard. He squirms and his grip tightens over her hips, but he forgets to try and push her away. His eyes slide shut. When she pulls back and lets him breathe, he groans quietly to himself, "You are gonna get me in so much trouble. If your handler comes back…"

Whiskey puts her hand over his mouth to cut him off. "Relax, sweetheart," she grins. "No one's comin' for a long time."


	3. TopherClaire: didn't hate him

Prompt: Topher/Dr Saunders, first time she didn't hate him

* * *

"She's the new element that's been introduced to his environment, the catalyst to his physical response."

There's a boyish smile on Topher's face as he translates, "He likes her." No sneering condescension, just a smile and gentle amusement.

He should still be worried and outraged, really. This is more than a small glitch. It's memory. It's something instinctual and intrinsic that his precious technology isn't wiping away.

Instead he seems almost fond.

Claire feels the corners of her mouth twitch upward of their own accord. "Yeah," she agrees quietly.

Maybe there is a soul beneath all those ridiculous sweater vests.


	4. TopherClaire: escape

Prompt: Topher/Claire, escape

* * *

Sometimes Topher has this dream where he's Alpha. And yeah, that's pretty fucked up even for him, but what isn't these days?

Anyway, once he's killed his handler and the doctor and given the programmer (also played by Topher Brink for this film) a fright that'll last him a lifetime, he goes over to the Self Shelf, just like the real Alpha did.

Except instead of his own identity, this Alpha finds Whiskey's original imprint and smashes the hell out of that wedge. Then he finds the back-up and destroys that one, too.

And when he finds Claire Saunders (who shouldn't exist at this point in time, but try telling that to his dreamworld), he says, "Now you'll never have to die."

And sometimes they stroll right out of the Dollhouse, and no one ever manages to find them.

Most of the time he wakes up before they get past the front door.

Topher supposes he's had worse recurring dreams.


	5. ClaireTopherBoyd: triangles

Prompt: Claire/Topher/Boyd, Triangles are complicated

* * *

If the almost-friendship they have gains an undercurrent of tension after Claire returns, neither of them says anything about it.

* * *

When the vulnerability creeps up, she goes to Boyd. Tall, tall Boyd, who can curl his arms around her and hold her tight to block out the rest of the world.

When it's anger, she seeks out Topher and locks the door behind them. Topher, who's stopped fighting her and just stares with wide eyes when she shoves him against the wall and digs her nails into his back.

Mornings are a process of quick steps and hastily gathered clothes. She won't sleep in her own bed anymore. It belongs to Dr. Saunders, and she's just an intruder there.

* * *

_"Was I my best?"_

Sometimes,

_"You're not a Doll, Claire."_

Sometimes,

_"Always."_

It depends on what she needs that day.

* * *

When Boyd visits Claire in her office, Topher can see the entire scene from his own space. He's not trying to watch, but his desk faces outward, and it can't be helped.

There are so many windows in the Dollhouse.

And his shirt rubs at the bruises left on his neck, so if he fiddles with his collar while delivering a report and Boyd happens to see, that can't really be helped either.

They get no satisfaction from the suspicious glares.

* * *

She's being horrible to both of them.

But maybe she's just built that way.


	6. Adelle: seeing Rossum

Prompt: Adelle DeWitt, She finally sees Rossum for what it really is

* * *

"I want you to retrieve all of the Actives' original scans and put them back in their bodies."

Topher looks up from his computer and stares at her like he's waiting for the punchline. "Um…"

"That was a command, Topher," Adelle adds forcefully. "Stop gaping and follow it."

His jaw snaps shut, and he quickly jumps to his feet. His hands fidget anxiously, and he looks both hesitant and eager. "Ambrose is still down in the kitchen in Victor's body. If we do this…"

"I don't give a damn what Clive Ambrose thinks!" she snaps. Topher recoils, and Adelle takes a moment to regain her composure. In a more even tone, "The staff can keep him occupied while you do your work. Once all of the others are returned, we'll take Victor back."

Topher nods, a mix of disbelief and hope on his face. "Rossum's gonna come down on us hard…" he muses quietly.

"It may be Rossum's business, but this House is still mine. I won't allow any harm to come to those under my protection, Actives or employees." She gives Topher an appraising look. "Do you trust me?" she asks.

He bites back an almost instinctive _with my life_ and settles for, "Yes."

"Start with Sierra. I'll be back shortly."


End file.
